


New Americana

by rustycoralnipples



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinking, Multi, Slow Burn, and in new york, i wish i was rich, maybe drugs, probably drugs, rich kids, will get sexy later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-10 11:10:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6981943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustycoralnipples/pseuds/rustycoralnipples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Alex arrives at Columbia, he's not sure what to expect. He is soon roped into the world of high society, caught up in the glitz and glamour of the lives of the rich and not quite famous. But there's more than meets the eye when it comes to his friends and foes. How will Alex handle his new whirlwind of a life?</p>
<p>Inspired by Halsey's "New Americana" and my fascination with rich kids.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Are the New Americana

“Holy shit…”

The first words Alexander Hamilton muttered when he entered the lobby were less than eloquent. However, one could not blame him.

The lobby of Furnald Hall was stunning. The floor was made of tiles in several different shades of brown, each one freshly polished. The walls were covered in wood paneling in a rich, dark color. Alex guessed they were mahogany, but he didn’t really know anything about wood other than that it hurt if you were hit with it. The ceiling was white with carved hexagons and laurel wreaths, and a bronze chandelier hung gracefully in the center. Behind the front desk there were two floor-to-ceiling windows. There was a glass door inset between them.

Alex took a deep breath and joined the line at the desk. As he waited he took stock of the lobby’s population. There were students scattered about, some in conversation with each other, others huddled anxiously next to their parents. Despite their apparent hesitance, they all looked like they belonged. Alex counted at least five guys wearing Rolex watches. The girls were all freshly manicured and carried expensive handbags.

Alex looked down at his own attire. He was wearing a pair of old jeans that were faded at the knees. His shoes were just crappy sneakers from Goodwill, also the origin of the blue t-shirt he was wearing. His backpack was the nicest thing he had. He received it as a gift from his favorite high school teacher when he graduated. The straps were padded and didn’t dig into his shoulders the way his old bag did. His arms were wrapped around a cardboard box full of books, which was constantly on the verge of slipping out of his sweaty grip.

When he finally reached the front desk he was greeted by a young woman wearing a crisp white blouse.

“Name?” she asked curtly.

“Hamilton… comma, Alexander.”

She sighed as she searched through a stack of folders. When she found the one with his name on it she handed it to him with a painfully forced smile.

“Alright Mr. Hamilton. Here is your orientation folder. You will be in room 217 on the second floor. Here is your key. Welcome to Columbia.”

He took the key and nodded.

“Thank y-“

“Next!”

* * *

 

Alex stepped onto the second floor out of breath. The wait for the elevator was too long, so he decided to take the stairs. Now his legs ached along with his arms. He made his way across the hallway, looking at the number plates next to the doors. Room 216 was to his left, which meant 217 must be beside it.

Suddenly, the bottom of the box gave out, sending his books tumbling down to the floor.

“Fuck,” he exclaimed. It came out louder than he intended. The door to room 216 opened and a young man’s head poked out.

“Need some help there?” he asked smoothly.

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” he replied, kneeling down to gather some of the books. “Sorry.”

“No problem. What’s your name?”

“Alexander. Alexander Hamilton.”

The man joined Alex on the floor. “I’m Aaron Burr.”

Alex nodded, filing the name in the back of his mind.

“Where are you headed?” Aaron asked once they had put all the books back in the box.

“Room 217.”

“Ah. Right next door.” He handed Alex the box. “Try carrying it from the bottom.”

He smiled in return. “Thanks.”

“Do you need help with the rest of your stuff?”

Alex shifted uncomfortably. “This is all my stuff.”

Aaron gave him an odd look before nodding and turning back toward his room.

“I’ll see you around,” he added before closing the door behind him.

Alex sighed, fishing for the key in his pocket. He struggled briefly with the lock before opening the door and stepping into the room.

The room was small but not uncomfortably so. There were two windows on the far wall, two beds on the left, and two desks on the right. Immediately inside were two wardrobes. The white walls contrasted against the warm wood of the floor. Alex set his things on the bed farthest from the window. He sat down and took a deep breath, grateful for the moment of relaxation.

This moment did not last long however. Moments later a luggage cart came rolling into the room. The cart was pushed by a large man passionately humming Fucik’s “Entry of the Gladiators.” The cart held an extensive amount of matching luggage, on top of which a tall, elegantly dressed man was perched. The cart rammed into Alex’s bed, nearly knocking him over.

“Hercules!” exclaimed the man on the cart. “Mon ami, you must be more careful! You almost killed le pauvre garcon!”

“Sorry,” Hercules muttered, offering hand to help the man to the floor.

“Are you alright?” he asked once he had both feet on the ground.

Alex stared at him for a moment, still processing the sight he had just seen.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he replied.

The man extended his hand to Alexander. “My name is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette. But you may call me simply Lafayette.”

Alex shook his hand. “Alexander Hamilton.”

The man behind the cart stepped forward. “Hercules Mulligan.”

“Hi.”

“Well, Monsieur Hamilton, it looks like you and I will be ah, what’s the word…”

“Room mates,” Alex offered.

“Oui! Room mates. Hercules, will you please put my things on the other side of the room?”

Hercules rolled his eyes. “Yes, your highness.”

Lafayette flashed him a wide smile. “Merci beaucoup.” He then sat down on the other bed and looked at Alex inquisitively.

“So Alexander, what brings you to this learning establishment?”

“Political science. And journalism.”

“Ah, a smart man. I am fonder of history, particularly of the American variety. I find your country very interesting. So different from France.”

Alex snickered. “I’ve always wanted to go to France.”

Lafayette gasped. “You have never visited?”

“No, unfortunately.”

“Then where did you spend your summers?”

“Uh… at the YMCA.”

Hercules let out a boisterous laugh. Alex blushed, and Hercules sensed his discomfort.

“Don’t worry about it. The Marquis sometimes forgets that not everyone is sitting on huge piles of money.”

“Oui, my apologies. You will have to come visit with us.”

“I’d like that.”

Hercules finished unloading the cart. “There you go. Can we eat now?”

“Of course! There is an excellent café down the street. They have the best salmon this side of the city.”

Alex took his wallet out of his bag and looked inside.

“All I have is a five.”

Hercules smiled. “My treat. Payback for almost running you over.”

“C’est parfait!” Lafayette exclaimed. “Shall we invite our dear Laurens?”

“He should be here by now. I’ll text him.”

“Who’s Laurens?” Alex asked.

“John Laurens is our friend from boarding school,” Hercules replied.

“Boarding school,” Alex thought to himself. “Fancy.”

Hercules’ phone pinged and he looked down at the screen. “He’ll meet us there.”

“Magnifique! Let us away!”

* * *

 

Ten minutes later the three arrived at the café. The sign above it said Deluxe in black and blue letters. Inside the restaurant there were booths and tables spread around, and a bar to the left. Lafayette greeted the hostess who showed them to their booth. Lafayette and Hercules sat on one side of the table, Alex on the other. They sat in silence for a moment browsing the menus. A few minutes later they heard the door open.

“Hey, Laurens is here!” Hercules proclaimed. Alex whipped his head around to look toward the door.

Walking toward the table was arguably one of the most attractive people Alex had ever seen. He was average height with a compact yet muscular build. His skin was a golden brown and dotted with a myriad of freckles which extended to the dip of his v-neck t-shirt. His curly black hair was pulled into a low ponytail at the base of his neck.

When he arrived at the table they all stood up to greet him. Hercules gave him a firm pat on the back while Lafayette opted to pull him in for a hug. Laurens then turned toward Alex, who extended his hand.

“Alexander Hamilton. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“John Laurens. The pleasure’s all mine.”

Laurens held his hand for just a second longer than necessary, and Alex forgot to breathe for a moment. Lafayette and Hercules exchanged a look before sitting down, and John and Alex followed.

“So, dear Laurens, how was South Carolina?” Lafayette inquired.

John shrugged. “Same old, same old. Hot. Boring. A million lectures from my father.”

Hercules snorted. “What wisdom did he bestow upon you for your academic future.”

He lowered his voice in an imitation of his father. “Study hard, stay away from the undesirables. If you’re going to get drunk, make sure the alcohol is expensive.”

Lafayette and Hercules laughed. Alex nervously joined them.

“God, he is such a dick!” John groaned.

“What does he mean by undesirables?” Alex asked timidly.

“Anyone who isn’t rich, straight, and conservative.”

Alex looked down nervously. Laurens placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I’m only one-for-three.”

“John could out-gay Richard Simmons and he makes Rachel Maddow look like a moderate.” Hercules added. John swatted him across the table.

“Shut up.”

“La vérité se dit en badinant,” Lafayette noted.

“Many true words are spoken in jest,” Alex mused. The three boys looked at him.

“Tu parle français?” Lafayette gawked.

“Ma mère m'a appris quand j'étais jeune.”

“Can we switch back to English please?” Hercules pleaded.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you chose to take German,” Lafayette ridiculed.

“Verpiss dich,” he shot back.

Alex thought it best to switch topics.

“What do you plan to study, Laurens?”

“I’m in pre-law for my father’s sake, but I’m double majoring art.”  
Alex smiled. “That’s awesome. What kind of art?”

“Primarily drawing. I dabble in sculpture.”

“Wow,” Alex marveled. “I can’t even draw a decent stick figure. I’m more of a writer.”

John laughed. “It takes practice. What do you write?”

“Long-winded political rants, mostly. I have a whopping 37 followers on Twitter.”

This time they both laughed. They didn’t realize their waiter was at the table until he coughed to get their attention. The four of them placed their orders before returning to their conversation.

They spent the next hour discussing everything from the upcoming election to their favorite authors, Alex becoming more and more comfortable as the conversation went on. He spent most of the time talking to John, which the other boy did not seem to mind. Lafayette and Hercules were having an argument over the proper pronunciation of ‘crepe.’ Alex was becoming increasingly enamored with the man sitting next to him. Over time they had moved so close together that their legs were almost touching.

When they had all finished eating Hercules asked for the check. Alex thanked him profusely and promised to pay him back.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hercules assured.

The walk back to their building was quick. They piled into the elevator, pushing the buttons for the second and fourth floor. John lamented the fact that he was on a different floor than the others. The three second-floor inhabitants exited at their stop, turning to wave at their friend.

“It was nice to meet you,” John exclaimed just before the doors closed. Alex waved back stupidly, continuing to stare at the elevator.

“Hercules, I believe our new friend has fallen for our dear Laurens,” Lafayette jeered, causing Hercules to giggle.

Alex turned red. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he muttered.

Hercules clapped him on the back. “Of course you don’t. I’m going to go finish unpacking my shit.” He gave Lafayette a pointed look. “Don’t go too hard on him.”

The Frenchman let out an offended gasp. “I would never do such a thing.”

Hercules smirked. “Later Alex.”

“Later,” he replied meekly.

Lafayette slung his arm over Alex’s shoulder.

“Ah, mon ami, you need not be embarrassed. John is a very beautiful man.”

“Yeah,” Alex sighed dreamily.

“Come now,” he instructed, pushing Alex toward their room. “We can finish unpacking and I can help you formulate a plan to win his heart.”

Alex laughed hardily. He had a feeling that he was going to like this place.

 

 


	2. Hold Me Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long to post this. I had a really busy weekend. Enjoy!

It took Alex less than ten minutes to unpack all his things. He spent the next few hours helping Lafayette, who had brought an immeasurable amount of stuff. He had more clothes than Alex had worn in his lifetime. There were lot’s of suits, all custom tailored and neatly pressed. Lafayette gave him specific instructions on how and where to hang them (neutrals on the left, colors in rainbow order). The man’s affinity for order led him to organize all of Alex’s books in alphabetical order, grouped by subject. Alex knew this was futile as they would be out of order again by the end of the week, but he didn’t mention it.

By the time they were finished it was nearing dinnertime. Lafayette suggested they check out the cafeteria, but Alex declined. The idea of eating in a large crowded room with lots of noise made him anxious.

“Are you not hungry?” Lafayette questioned. “You ate so little at lunch.”

This was true. Alex had ordered a salad and spent the hour pushing it around his plate.

“Not really. I’m used to not eating a lot.”

_Shit._

Lafayette looked at him worriedly.

_Great. Now he’s going to ask questions._

“Why is that?”

Alex looked down at his hands. “I…” he began. “I’d rather not go into it.”

The other man nodded. “That’s okay. We have plenty of time to get to know each other.”

Alex gave him a small smile, relaxing a bit. He was used to people prodding at him until he gave them an answer. This was a refreshing change.

Lafayette ordered take out for himself. They sat in silence, Alex flipping through his orientation folder absentmindedly.

“It says here that we have a floor meeting at 8:30.”

Lafayette looked up from his food. “What time is it now?”

Alex looked at his phone. “It’s 8:27.”

“Merde. We should go.” He put the remainder of his dinner in their small fridge, and the two of them made their way to the common lounge. They found a spot in the corner next to Hercules.

At precisely 8:30 a man with a clipboard strode in. Alex recognized him as the guy who helped him pick up his books.

“Hello. I’m Aaron Burr, sophomore. I’ll be your Residence Assistant for the next year.”

“Oh, no,” Hercules muttered under his breath.

“What?” Alex whispered.

“Aaron Burr graduated from our high school. He’s got the biggest stick up his ass.”

“Really? He seemed nice earlier when he helped me pick up my books.”

Burr cleared his throat, sensing the disturbance. “Mr. Hamilton. Did you have something you wanted to share?”

Alex shook his head nervously. “No, sir. Burr. Burr, sir.”

There were snickers throughout the rest of the room. “Alright then. Why don’t we go around the room and introduce ourselves? Who wants to start?”

A hand shot up from the other side of the room.

“Okay. Let’s go with the standard name, major, and interesting fact.”

The man stood up. “Thomas Jefferson. Political science. My father is the CEO of the largest contracting firm in the country,” he said smugly. Alex rolled his eyes.

The next person stood up, and Alex’s heart stopped.

“James Madison. Political science and journalism. My father-“

Alex cut him off. “What your father does for a living isn’t an interesting fact about you. I’m sure it’s hard to come up with something else as you’re about as interesting as a lint-trap, but try to be original.”

Madison narrowed his. “Alright. My interesting fact is that I was chosen as Editor-in-Chief of my school’s newspaper over Alexander Hamilton, and he was so upset, he quit.”

Every head in the room turned to look at Alex. He stood up.

“Alexander Hamilton. Political science and journalism. I quit my school’s paper because I wasn’t about to support an institution that let people pay for positions, especially people who wouldn’t know a good story if it bit them in the privileged, pathetic little Armani-clad ass!”

The room fell silent. Alex turned on his heel and walked out of the lounge, slamming the door behind him. Hercules and Lafayette followed soon after.

“Dude, what the fuck was that? I mean, it was awesome, but what the fuck?” Hercules demanded.

Alex sighed, sitting down on his bed.

“Madison and I went to high school together. We were pretty good friends until he stole the position from me. I taught him everything he knows about writing and he has the audacity to act like he’s better than me. That _fucker._ ”

“What about that Jefferson guy?”

“Don’t know him. They must have met outside of school.” He flopped down on his back. “I didn’t want to make a scene on my first fucking day.”

Hercules sighed. “You did make quite the impression.”  
“Oui,” Lafayette added. “Our petit lion has quite the roar.”

Alex groaned. “That nickname is _not_ going to become a thing.”

Hercules laughed loudly.

“Oh, it’s definitely gonna be a thing.”

* * *

 

The next day was thankfully uneventful. There were some building tours, bullshit presentations about “campus safety,” and brief meetings with academic advisors. Alex’s advisor was Mr. Washington. He seemed nice but he hadn’t spent enough time with him to really know.

He hadn’t seen his friends all day, but he also hadn’t run in to Madison or Jefferson, which was good. He wondered if Hercules and Lafayette had told John about what happened the previous night. He didn’t want John to think badly about him. Alex had promised himself that he wouldn’t get into any fights here, and he was already on his way to breaking that promise. He just didn’t get along with these kinds of people. People who had everything handed to them, who looked down on the people who work twice as hard as them but earn so much less.

Alex was so lost in is thoughts that he didn’t notice he was walking straight toward a pole until it hit him in the face.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” a voice asked from behind him. He turned to look for its source.

A petite girl with dark hair and kind eyes stood before him.

“I think so,” he responded weekly.

“You’re bleeding.”

Alex brought his hand to his forehead. “Shit.”

The girl took his arm and led him toward the building. “Come with me. Lets get you cleaned up.”  
Alex did not protest. He looked up to see where they were going. The building was huge and made of stone. There were ionic columns all across the front, above which were the names of several Greek and Roman writers and philosophers.

“My sister works in the library. I was on my way to meet her.”

They entered the building and headed straight for the front desk. The woman sitting behind it perked up.

“Eliza!” she exclaimed happily. She turned to look at Alex. “And…?”

“Oh! I forgot to ask for your name,” Eliza apologized.

“Alexander Hamilton.”

“Elizabeth Schuyler,” she said, offering her hand. Alex shook it.

“I’d kiss it, but I have blood on my face.”

Eliza blushed and turned to the woman at the counter.

“This is my sister, Angelica.”

“What brings you in?” Angelica asked.

“Well, I was on my way to see you, and then I saw Alexander walk face-first into a pole.”

Angelica giggled and reached under the counter, pulling out a first-aid kit. She placed it on the counter.

“It’s mostly band aids, but there might be some disinfectant wipes in there.”

“Thank you,” Eliza said graciously. She picked up the box and led Alex to a quiet table in the corner. She searched through the kit until she found the wipes.

“This is going to sting a bit,” she warned, bringing the cloth to Alex’s forehead. He cringed at the familiar pain.

“Are you a freshman?” Eliza inquired, attempting to distract him.

“Yeah.”

“Me too. Where are you from?”

“Here. The city, I mean. You?”

“Same. Where did you go to school?”

“Hunter College.”

“Ah! Did you perchance know James Madison?”

“I… yes.”

“He’s just awful, isn’t he? His father is friends with my father. He used to brag about being Editor-in-Chief of Hunter’s newspaper, which baffled me, because he’s an awful writer. ” She looked embarrassed. “Oh no, that was mean.”

Alex barked a laugh. “It’s fine. He’s the worst.”

Eliza smiled. When she was done cleaning the wound she put a band aid over it.

“There. Does it feel okay?”

Alex nodded. “Thank you.”

Eliza looked down at her watch. “Oh, shoot. I have to go. I’m meeting my other sister for dinner in ten minutes.” She stood up and slung her powder blue Kate Spade bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you around?”

“Hopefully.”

She gave him one last smile before leaving. Alex closed the first aid kit and brought it back to Angelica at the counter. They exchanged goodbyes and Alex began walking back to his dorm, making sure to watch where he was going.

When he entered his room Lafayette was sitting on his bed reading a magazine.

“Bonjour, mon petit lion. How was your day?”

Alex sighed at the use of the nickname. “It was fine. Boring, thankfully.”

“What happened to your face?”

“Genetics and a poor skincare regimen,” he responded dryly.

Lafayette snorted. “I was referring to the wound.”

“Ah. I got into a fight with a lamppost. It won.”

“I am sure you put up a good fight.”

Alex chuckled. “How about you?”

“Ah, much the same. No battle scars though.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Hey nerds!” Hercules voice came through the other side. “Wanna get food?”

Alex looked at Lafayette. “Um…”

“Laurens is coming!”

“I’m in!”

* * *

 

The cafeteria wasn’t as bad as he thought. Sure, it was crowded, but it wasn’t terribly loud. He and his friends sat in a booth by the window. Hercules was relaying a dramatized version of what happened in the lounge.

“It was fucking savage, man! Burr looked like he was gonna pass out.”

Laurens was listening intently. “Damn, Hamilton. I wouldn’t have pegged you as a fighter.”

“Then what would you have pegged me as?” Alex asked flirtatiously.

“Alright, alright, there will be plenty of time for John to peg you later,” Hercules interrupted.

Alex scowled at him.

“What does peg mean?” Lafayette inquired.

“Moving on!” Alex interjected.

“To what?”

“Anything! Absolutely anything!”

“I miss turtles!” John exclaimed suddenly. The other boys looked at him quizzically.

John sighed. “I miss turtles. They’re everywhere in South Carolina, but there are none here.”

Hercules shook his head. “Of all the conversation topics-“

“You got something better?” Laurens snapped back.

“I made a friend today,” Alex chimed in. “At least, I think so.”

“Who?” Lafayette prodded.

“Her name is Elizabeth Schuyler. She helped me patch up my face.

Hercules’ eyebrows shot up. “Schuyler? As in, the Schuyler sisters?”

“Um, I guess.”

“The Schuyler sisters are practically royalty. They’re the pinnacles of high society,” John explained.

“Their parties are _insane._ I would kill for an invitation. Lafayette’s been to one,” Hercules added.

“It was merveilleux.”

“Elizabeth Schuyler touched your face,” Hercules marveled. “I need to touch your face! It’s as close to touching her as I’ll ever get.”

“Dude, no,” Alex protested.

“Maybe you’ll have a chance now that we’re on the same campus,” Lafayette offered.

“Yeah,” John agreed. “Just don’t be gross.”

“Is that possible?” Alex joked. Hercules flipped him off in response. Alex went to return the gesture, but his arm knocked over his drink, causing the fruit punch to spill on him.

“Dammit! This is my favorite shirt,” he pouted.

“It’s just a t-shirt,” John said, handing him a napkin. “We can get you a new one.”

“Yes! Let’s go shopping tomorrow!” Lafayette squealed.

“I don’t have any money.”

“Don’t worry about! I love to spoil my friends! John, Hercules, would you like to join us?”

They both agreed.

“Great! We will meet in the lobby at noon.”

“You guys really don’t have to do this,” Alex assured.

“I know. But we want to,” Lafayette responded. “We should get back to the room now. We have a long day ahead of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue shopping montage! This chapter is kind of all over the place, but there's just a lot of exposition to get through. Bear with me!


	3. Sold my Soul to a Three Piece

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long to post this. I had a hell of a week. I'm also sorry that this chapter is a bit short, but I'm trying to go for quality over quantity and maintain some coherency. I threw in a reference to another one of my favorite shows, so let me know if you caught it.

It was almost 1 o’clock when they walked into Saks Fifth Avenue. Lafayette had gone to brunch in the morning while Alex opted for a brown sugar cinnamon Poptart. The idea of brunch just seemed pretentious to him. Plus, he really didn’t want to bum any more money off his friends.

Saks was, like every other building on this side of town, the epitome of grandeur. Everything was bright white and impeccably arranged. The air smelled like a mix of perfumes, which was intoxicating and nauseating at the same time.

“What is this place?” Alex whispered.

“It’s called- a department store,” John whispered back.

“It’s- it’s beautiful.”

“All right, kid, let’s go get you some clothes,” Hercules said, amused by his friend’s childlike wonder.

“I’m not a kid,” Alex huffed. “I’m a fully grown adult, thank you very much.”

“Oui, a fully grown adult who still starts his day with generic toaster pastries,” Lafayette joked.

They made their way to the escalator and rode it up to the second floor. The menswear section was huge, and admittedly overwhelming. Luckily Lafayette was very familiar with it.

“We should start by getting you a decent pair of jeans,” he suggested.

“I just need a shirt,” Alex protested. “And there’s nothing wrong with the jeans I’m wearing.”

Lafayette looked at the ill fit, poorly made pants. “Oh mon cher, you have much to learn.”

He directed the group toward a large wall display of jeans in a wide array of cuts and washes.

“Now, what size do you think you are?”

“Um…”

“Mon dieu, this is going to be harder than I thought. Hercules can you give me an estimate?”

Hercules looked the smaller man up and down. “Thirty-one thirty.”

“What does that mean?” Alex asked. Hercules laughed, earning a death glare from Laurens.

“Sorry.”

Lafayette selected a few pairs in Alex’s size before moving onto shirts. He picked out various styles and added them to the pile of pants in Alex’s arms. Once he was satisfied he ushered him into the dressing room.

“Now, you have to show us everything, even if you don’t like it,” Lafayette instructed.

“But if I don’t like it we’re not gonna buy it,” Alex countered.

“Just do as I say.”

Alex closed the dressing room door and sighed. He hated trying on clothes. He didn’t hate his body, but he didn’t really like it either. He was too thin in most places, his ribs slightly visible under his tan skin. His knees were knobby and he looked like he had repeatedly skipped leg day.

Once he had stripped off his clothes he picked out a pair of pants and a gray shirt. He took a deep breath and stepped out of the dressing room. His friends were wrapped up in a conversation and he coughed to get their attention. They all turned to look at him at the same time. For a moment no one said anything.

“Do I look okay?”

The silence continued.

“Guys?”

Hercules was the first to speak. “Well hot damn.”

“Is that good or…?”

“Alexander, you look incredible,” Lafayette mused.

“There was a body under all those clothes!” Hercules exclaimed.

“John?”

Laurens continued to stare. Lafayette smacked his arm.

He snapped out of his trance. “You…I…you look… wow.”

“Well said Laurens,” the Frenchman quipped.

Alex blushed deeply.

“Go try on the rest of the stuff,” Hercules told him.

At the end of the day they left with three pairs of pants, six shirts, a jacket and a new pair of shoes. Alex covered his ears when the cashier announced the total.

“We will get you a suit when the time comes,” Lafayette assured him, and Alex knew better than to object.

As soon as he got back to the room he threw himself on the bed.

“Tired, are we?”

Alex groaned into the pillow.

“Do you like what we bought?”

“Yes,” he answered, his response muffled slightly.

“We all agreed the clothes looked fabulous on you. Though, I suspect our dear Laurens thinks they would look even better on the floor of his room.”

“What do you… Oh, shut up!” 

* * *

 

Alex was awoken the next morning by the blaring of his alarm, alerting him that it was time to get ready for his first class. He had Political Journalism at 8:00am. He silenced the alarm and got up slowly from his bed. He glanced at the ball of blankets on the other bed, which he assumed to be Lafayette. A light snore confirmed his assumption. He grabbed his shower caddy and walked to the community bathroom.

The shower was small and made him feel slightly claustrophobic. He turned the knob, jumping away from the sudden rush of cold water. When it warmed up he stepped under the stream and made quick work of washing himself, eager to finally start his college career.

The cold of the hallway contrasted sharply with the warm water he had just been under. He shuffled quickly to his room and closed the door behind him. He brushed his hair, wincing at the resistance of the occasional knots, feeling vaguely triumphant when he unraveled them.

He opted for the first outfit he had tried on at the department store. Not only was it comfortable, the effect it had on his friends gave him an extra boost of confidence. He grabbed his backpack and walked out the door.

The campus was packed with students making their way to class. He could tell which ones were freshmen, as they walked quickly with a visible spring in their step. The upperclassmen walked sluggishly, hands wrapped around large cups of coffee.

He got to class ten minutes early and chose a spot in the front row. He wasn’t a teacher’s pet, per say, as he was never afraid to argue with them. He was, however, always the first to answer a question, occasionally unprompted. There were other students scattered around the room and most had made the choice to sit in seats toward the back of the classroom.

Much to his dismay, Jefferson and Madison strolled into the room and sat directly behind him.

“There are a ton of other seats in this room,” Alex grumbled.

“I know. But sitting somewhere else would make it more difficult to piss you off,” Madison sneered.

“James, your mere presence on this planet is enough to piss me off.”

“Then you’re in for a hell of a year.”

Alex smiled mockingly. “I look forward to the challenge.”

Madison turned to the man beside him. “Don’t worry, Thomas. His bark is worse than his bite.”

Jefferson smirked. “I have no doubt about that. But if he does bite, I have my father’s lawyer on speed dial.”

“Is it possible for you to have a conversation without mentioning your father? Freud would have a field day.”

“Are you really one to be talking about daddy issues, Hamilton?” Madison rebutted.

Alex was about to respond, but the sound of the door shutting cut him off.

“Good morning kids! Are you ready for the first class of the year?”

The students stared blankly at the man in the front of the room.

“I _said,_ are you ready!” he shouted, causing several people jump in their seats.

Several students murmured “yes.” The man sighed.

“It’ll do for now. My name is Professor Franklin. In addition to teaching, I am the faculty advisor for the paper. I hope to see all of you at tomorrow’s callout meeting,” he said, scanning the room. He pulled out a thick stack of papers and dropped it on Hamilton’s desk. “Pass these down the aisle. This is your syllabus. I’m assuming all of you can read, so I won’t walk you through it. Just be on time, turn in your shit, don’t be a dick.”

Franklin crossed back to the lectern and took out his laptop.

“Now, since I’m sure you’re all tired of the get-to-know you crap, I’ve taken the liberty of doing some investigative journalism myself.”

The students looked around anxiously.

“Social media makes it so easy to learn about people, especially when they don’t utilize privacy settings,” he explained, opening his laptop. “For example… Samuel Seabury?”

A small man sitting in the fifth row spoke up. “Yes sir?”

“Born November 30th. Likes Jesus, Doctor Who, and Taylor Swift. Can’t spell for shit. Thinks the Star Wars prequels aren’t that bad.”

Samuel slunk down in his seat.

“Thomas Jefferson.”

Jefferson sat up straighter.

“Born April 13th. Likes Christopher Nolan, College Republicans, and macaroni. Loves spending daddy’s money and taking selfies.”

Alex bit back a laugh.

“Alexander Hamilton.”

The smile slipped from his face.

“I had to do some digging on this one. All I found was a very active Twitter account. No personal information. Not even a birthday. Just politics.”

Professor Franklin moved to the front to stand if front of him.

“Because I know nothing about Mr. Hamilton’s personal life, the only things I can respond to are his arguments, as exhausting and verbose as they may be.”

Hamilton blushed and looked away.

“This is what all of you should strive for. You want to be known for your views, not who you are. You must present yourself to the world first as a journalist, and then as a human being.”

Alex glanced around the room and saw that all eyes were on him. Pride swelled in his chest and he tried to stop himself from smiling. Franklin closed his laptop.

“Now everybody fuck off. Enjoy the rest of your morning.”

Alex threw a smug look at Madison and Jefferson before gathering his things and practically skipping out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter Ben Franklin as the wise badass professor. I'm still bitter that he didn't make it into the show. Also, have you ever been to Saks? I feel like a peasant every time I walk through it. Thank you so much for reading!


	4. Tearing Through the Pages and the Ink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shortish chapter, sue me. I'm trying to set up for some really great stuff. Also, more shameless musical references.

Alex walked through the burgeoning afternoon shadows that spread themselves across the campus. The rest of his classes, though not as entertaining as his first, went well. He looked forward to the semester ahead. He was excited about tomorrow’s newspaper callout meeting. He figured that only upperclassmen could be editors, but he could still contribute _something._ He hoped that Professor Franklin would disregard Madison’s role as Hunter’s Editor-in-Chief and see him for the shitty writer he is.

“Alex!” a voice called in the distance. Alex squinted in its direction.

The voice had come from John Laurens, who was stretched out beneath a tree with a sketchbook in hand. He walked quickly toward him.

“Hey,” he greeted Laurens, trying to hide the fact that he was out of breath from walking so fast.

“How was your first day?” the man on the ground inquired.

“It was good. One of my professors totally dragged Jefferson. Read him for filth.”

John laughed, and Alex noticed the way his whole face lit up when he did so.

“Would you like to join me? I’m just working on some sketches.”

“Sure,” Alex responded, probably too enthusiastically. He sat down on the grass next to his friend.

“What are you drawing?”

“Turtles, mostly. I’m supposed to be working on my portrait skills, but I’m avoiding it because I suck at drawing people.”

Alex smiled. “I highly doubt that.”

John shook his head. “Then I guess I’ll have to prove it to you.” He flipped to a new page in his sketchbook. “Sit still.”

This earned the artist a quizzical look. “Why?”

“I’m going to draw you.”

“I, uh… okay.” Alex attempted to strike a modelesque pose. The other man laughed.

“Just act natural. Relax.”

“I can’t do both.”

“Then just relax.”

Alex did as he was told. He leaned back onto the grass and placed one hand on his stomach, leaving the other hand free to anxiously play with his hair.

“That’s good.”

They were silent for a moment as John began his sketch. Alex watched the way his hand moved across the paper, the way his fingers gripped the pencil. He had a look of concentration on his face, which consisted of a furrowed brow and the tip of his tongue peeking through his lips. It was hot and adorable at the same time. Alex was thankful that he had this time to study John while he was busy and unaware of his gaze.

“So where did you grow up?” John asked, breaking the silence and forcing Alex to tear his eyes away.

“The Caribbean. Nevis, to be specific.”

“Oh cool. My dad has a timeshare somewhere down there.”

Alex blinked a few times. John stopped drawing and looked up at him.

“Oh my god, that might be the dumbest response I’ve ever given to anything,” he cringed.

Alex smiled. “It’s all right. It was a bit more eloquent than your input in the dressing room yesterday.”

A blush crept up John’s neck and he hunched over his sketchbook in an effort to hide it.

“How was _your_ first day,” Alex inquired, not wanting the conversation between them to cease.

“Boring, mostly. I mean, Drawing I was pretty awesome. Trumbull’s a great professor. I really want to impress him. I heard that at the end of the semester he picks the best student and draws them portrait style.”

“That’s rad, man.”

“Rad? And you think I’m ineloquent,” John scoffed.

“Hey, I save the big words for important matters. Not that talking to you isn’t important. I just meant…I… fuck.”

Laurens giggled and it was Alex’s turn to blush.

“It’s okay. I know what you mean.” He paused. “Mind if I put on some music.”

“No, go ahead.”

John picked up his iPhone and began to scroll through his music. He settled on a song and pressed play, and an electric beat filtered through the speaker.

“ _When the leaning tower falls to the ground,”_ the woman’s voice began.

_“When the hearsay’s too much to think about._

_And they think that they’ve got you figured out._

_It’s a rude world, it’s a vicious world._

_When they’re throwing stones, there’s a place I know._

_I can always go to my sanctuary baby!”_

“What is this? I like it.”

“It’s called Sanctuary by Allie X. I stumbled across it on Tumblr a while ago and fell in love.”

Alex perked up. “You have a Tumblr? What’s your url?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why?”

“Just ‘cause.”

“Oh my god, I bet you’re one of those people who refuses to tell people their middle name,” Alex groaned. “What’s your middle name?”

John didn’t answer.

“Oh my god!” Alex squealed.

“Alexander Hamilton, I will stab you with this pencil!”

Alex’s breath hitched. There was something insanely sexy about Laurens saying his full name. He wanted to hear it again, perhaps as more of a whisper against his neck.

“You okay?” Laurens interrupted his train of thought.

“Yeah. Just thinking about… homework.”

Laurens shot him a suspicious look. “Whatever you say.”

* * *

 

Alex must have fallen asleep, for the next thing he remembered was John gently shaking him.

“Alex? You there?”

He looked up at his friend groggily.

“Yeah, sorry. How long was I asleep?”

Laurens glanced at his phone. “About an hour. I finished the drawing.”

He placed his sketchbook in Alex’s hands. The sketch was beautiful. It was detailed, even capturing the faint gray circles under his eyes and the way his hair fell around his face. He gently ran his fingers across the page, careful not to smudge any of the charcoal lines. John had elected to draw him with his eyes closed and the right side of his mouth gently curled into a dreamy lop-sided smile.

“John, this is… this is fantastic.”

John gave him a small smile. “Thanks. I’d let you keep it, but I’ll have to show it to Trumbull to get credit.”

“No, no it’s fine. I understand,” Alex urged, handing the book back. John looked at it wistfully.

“You look so peaceful when you sleep,” he muttered softly. “It’s quite lovely.”

Alex swallowed hard and suddenly became very aware of how close he was to John. He could faintly smell his cologne, something spicy and woody. Alex wanted to bury his face in his friend’s neck, inhale his scent until it was completely ingrained in his memory. He wondered if John tasted as good as he smelled.

“Do I?” he whispered back. John seemed to notice their proximity and pulled back.

“It really contradicts your snoring,” he deflected.

“I do not snore!”

“You definitely do. Loudly. I don’t know how Lafayette sleeps in the same room as you.”

Neither of the boys noticed the sudden presence of the man in question.

“With a hefty dose of sleeping pills,” he replied, sitting down next to his friends. “Quoi de neuf?”

“John was just working on something for his drawing class.”

“And Alex was napping.”

“C’es gentil,” Lafayette cooed. Alex scowled.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” John interjected. “I got invited to a party this weekend and was told I should bring friends. Y’all wanna go?”

Alex stifled a laugh. “Y’all?”

“I’m from South Carolina, give me a break.”

“I, for one, would _love_ to go,” Lafayette answered.

“Alex, you down?”

Alex thought for a moment. He was never a fan of parties, but John was giving him this _look,_ and John would be there, and just… John.

“Sure.”

* * *

 

Alex was pacing the room, his fingers anxiously scratching his sweaty palms.

“Lafayette, what am I going to do? I don’t even know if I’ve ever been to a party!”

The Frenchman gasped. “Your very first party?”

He stopped pacing. “Do funerals count?”

Lafayette shook his head. Alex resumed his pacing.

“Oh, mon ami. What have you been doing all your life?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

Lafayette stood up and went over to Alex, placing a guiding hand on his shoulder.

“We have plenty of time to figure this out,” he soothed. “It’s just a party.”

“There’s no such thing as _just_ a party.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s always huge crowds of people, the music sucks and is too loud, everyone is dancing far too close together. And there are expectations. Expectations that I can’t meet.”

Lafayette laughed. “Mon cher, the only expectation is to have fun!”

“Yeah, like I said. Expectations I can’t meet.”

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“No! I have to. John will be there…”

“Indeed he will.”

“Oh my god, what if he asks me to dance? I can’t dance! I mean, my Macarena is on point, but other than that-“

“Calm down! Everything will be fine. John’s dancing is merde anyway.” He leaned closer to Alex. “You did not hear that from me.”

Alex sighed. “Okay, okay. I’ll calm down. But you have to promise to help me.”

“I will. I, how do you say, finger swear.”

Alex looked at him for a moment before collapsing into a fit of laughter. When he finally composed himself he extended his pinky.

“Pinky promise.”

Lafayette returned the gesture.

“Now, I must go to the library and do some reading. Want to join?”

“Nah,” Alex declined. “I think I’ll just hang out in here.”

“Okay,” Lafayette responded, gathering his things and heading for the door.

“Try not to worry yourself to death.”

Alex smiled faintly. “I’ll try.”

Once the door was shut he sprawled out on his bed and attempted to quiet his mind. Predictably, he failed.

Social interaction wasn’t his strong suit. He was great with words; he knew how construct them into something beautiful and persuasive. But for some reason, he couldn’t do it in day-to-day situations. He’d either clam up and say nothing or go on a horribly long and unrelated tangent.

The problem was only made worse by John. Alex was incredibly smooth with the ladies, but when it came to other guys he was a disaster. Maybe they were intimidated by him. Maybe girls were just nicer. He wasn’t sure. He watched a flirting instructional video on YouTube once, but none of it felt natural in practice. He made a mental note to look for a better video later.

If all else failed, there would probably be booze. Alex wasn’t much of a drinker, but liquid courage could certainly be helpful, and at this point he needed all the help he could get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Did you know you can do the Macarena to any song? That's the most important thing I've learned in college so far.   
> I live for comments! Come visit me on Tumblr at rustycoralnipples. Mwah!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Thanks for reading. This is my first series, so I'm trying my best. I've done a lot of research for this and all the places described are real. Stay tuned for more!


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